Hero?
by batbynight
Summary: Tia Surana retells her adventures. It's a little slow, but I'm pretty proud of it. Give it a chance?


There are only so many places we can run to, he said. And we have so many to fight off.

You'll stand a better chance without me. You'll last longer on your own. You have to leave me behind.

I'll always love you, now run.

And I did. I ran. Faster than I ever had before, I ran. But I didn't run for safety, I ran because I didn't want to watch. I couldn't watch. I knew what the darkspawn did to people. Elves, dwarves, humans... it didn't matter. It was all the same. We are all doomed to the same fate when the darkspawn get us. We become what we've been fighting, in the end. We become our brother's enemy, our daughters' greatest nightmare. And we don't even get to remember what we've lost.

By then, we are one of them. We were never an elf, never a human or dwarf. We're not mages, not warriors.

We are darkspawn.

They are darkspawn.

And my father would be, too, before I even escaped the Deep Roads. Before I dragged myself out of the Stone and greeted the sky with a smile one saved for new friends. Before I found the road and followed it blindly to wherever it would take me. Before the rain came and washed away the dust on my clothes and the blood under my nails, just in time for a merchant's wife to find me and take me home.

Eight years old.

Another year would pass. I would still be living with the merchant and his wife, and they would treat me like their own. I was their own. Their only. Their daughter. The Maker had never blessed them with children of their own, and they cared little that my ears were sharp.

And I knew I was no one else's daughter. My father was dead. My mother was gone. There was no one else.

When the Templars came I really did have nothing left.

I was only nine and I already knew what it meant to have nothing, be nothing. Less than nothing. No family, no purpose, no way of saying no, of fighting back. I was a mage of the Circle.

I thought I would never see the sky, again.

At twenty, I was still at the Circle. We were allowed outside for small periods of time and only under Templar supervision, but it was something. It was even enough, on some days. And on the days that it wasn't, I reminded myself that the sky could be kept from me completely. And then it was. Some human called Anders went and ruined it by trying to swim across the lake. I might not have minded if he'd actually gotten away, but he didn't. They brought him back days later a little worse for wear and we were told that leaving the tower was prohibited for any length of time no matter who was in your company.

I might have tried to kill Anders for it if my Harrowing hadn't come up. I would have killed him if I hadn't left.

Jowan was in love. And he was my friend. So I helped.

Jowan was a blood mage.

I felt betrayed. I was betrayed. Lily was, too, but she took it better than I did. She had a brave heart, a true one. She didn't deserve her fate. And once the Templars had led her off and I was left standing before the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander, all I could bite out was that I regretted nothing. I would have done it again.

I wouldn't have. But I said so. There was nothing I could say to make this worse. It was already the worst it could be. And I was not about to suck up to the very men that had kept me here for all these long years. And not just the Templars, but the First Enchanter, too. Mage or no, he was not the protector that he should have been. He was a puppet for the Templars to stick their hand into and spread their religion-fueled propgranda.

Duncan seemed to appear fpropagandae, but he was not unwelcome.

propagandaen little, but I had made sure to express my interest in the Grey Wardens during the brief words we'd shared. My father had been a Grey Warden. There was no order I respected more, or had more interest in being a part of.

Apparently my words had reached him. I was recruited. And that night I left the tower, narrowly escaping the punishment that the Templars had no-doubt been fantisizing about before Duncan had entered the picture.

And then I left.

My leaving wouldn't be forever, but the tower would never be my prison again. I would never be trapped there again.

And even in the starless darkness, the storm, the cold, there was never a day before or since that the sky had been more beautiful than it was on that night.

Ostagar, the Tower of Ishal, the Wilds. Barely a day of my life, but a day that cleared a path for destiny to take root.

With a man I barely knew, and an entire country against us, we were tasked with defeating the Archdemon. Were I not my father's daughter, I think I would have refused. This world had shown me little kindness. I was the world's victim. Why should I go out of my way to save it? Why should I risk my life, end my life, so that this world could victimize more?

But I was a Warden, as my father was. And I would not mock my father's memory. I would not dissapoint him, wherever he was.

It was not only Alistair and I for long. Others came. Morrigain the Sorceress and Leliana the Bard. Sten the Qunari. Wynne, Zevran, Oghren. Shale. We did not always get along, and we were not all friends, but we were close. Whatever we were, it was not bad. Comforting, really. I liked having them close.

We needed an army.

We had only papers.

The Dalish came first. We cured the Werewolves rather than killing them, though Zathrien sacrificed himself in order to do so. The Dalish were saddened by his loss, but believed him to have died a hero's death. I saw no reason to tell them otherwise.

We were attacked during our return to camp. Assassins ambushed us, and as much as I hate to admit it, I was thankful to be fighting something other than darkspawn.

And, strangely enough, I took the soul survivor along with me. Zevran. Zev to his friends.

I called him Zev.

In the first day of knowing him, he had propositioned me three times. I shot him down on all three counts.

Eventually I would give in. Many times I would give in. But it was always just sex, nothing more. Maybe it could have been, once. If we'd tried. But I never wanted more. Never tried for more. So it was just sex.

Second I returned to the Circle. I found it in the worst state I had ever seen it, and the veil thinner than I'd even thought possible. Many were dead. People I knew, some I even cared for. And, to top it off, Irving survived the whole damn thing. And Wynne. The two most brainwashed members of the Circle.

And Cullen.

A Templar he may have been, and may still be, but there was something about him that I could never hate.

He was honest. A little naive, maybe, and it didn't hurt that he always reminded me of a lost puppy, but he was honest. And honorable. An admirable man.

I was relieved, in that moment, that the blood mages behind me had not survived our encounter. They had gotten what they deserved. Or perhaps they deserved worse. No matter the case, no one else would suffer at their hands, and there was some comfort in that. I like to think that Cullen took comfort in that once he recovered.

I also like to think he regretted the sour words he spoke to me.

However he felt when all was said and done, First Enchanter Irving promised me the aid of the surviving mages against the blight, and we traveled onward. Wynne accompanied us. And despite our many differences, she was a skilled healer and it was good to have her along.

Redcliff came next, and the sky was red with fire when we arrived. We arrived to seek aid from Arl Eamon, but were instead met with a village plagued by walking corpses. It took little time to discover that the merchant that had taken me in, as well as his wife, had been lost in the initial attack. I wasn't sure how to feel.

Sad? Yes. They were good people, even if they never wrote me at the tower. It takes a good heart to take in a child when you struggle to feed yourselves.

Angry? Perhaps. A little. I had at least wanted the chance to say something to them. To ask them why they never wrote. To thank them for making the year after my father's death a happy one, something I could not have done on my own. Later I would be angry for the injustice. Good people- innocent people- had died because Loghain had decided to betray his King.

But there was worse to come.

Jowan was to come.

His betrayal was still raw. Less than a year had passed, though it could have been centuries and I would have felt no different. He should have warned me what he was. Told me the truth. I was his friend and he left me in the dark, had me risk myself without knowing all the facts.

My fate would not have been so fortunate had it not been for Duncan. My fate might have been the same as Lily's.

Worse, even, if they thought I were a knowing party. Perhaps execution if they feared I was the same. Or Tranquility, even though it is not allowed on Harrowed mages. Templars are not known for following the rules, nor for their kindness.

Jowan was in the dungeans of Redcliff Castle, which is where I left him.

There is no good you can do to make up for what you've, I said. You'll stay where you are.

And then he just got dragged out by Bann Teagan, looking for a way to kill whatever it was that was inside of the Arl's son, Connor.

I didn't know how much time we had. It would only take a day to get to the Circle of Magi for the lyrium, but... did we even have a day? More lives were at stake than simply Connor and Isolde's. There was an entire castle here. A village. An Arling. All filled with people who had done nothing to bring this upon their heads. People who couldn't even fight back if you handed them a sword. People who would die even if they could fight.

Blood magic. For the first time in my life it was not a weapon, it was a tool. It was the defining moment of my magical practice, now that I think back on it. Had it not been for Connor, I may never have given in the demons' calls.

Defining moment or not, I allowed Jowan to do his blood ritual. I was the one who entered the Fade, killed the demon. Connor survived at the price of his mother's life, and Alistair was furious. But I did the best I could. I did what I thought was right. And though I think he held it against me for a time afterward, he said he saw my side. He said he understood.

Orzammar was last. I planned it that way on purpose. Though I didn't think I'd be entering the Deep Roads when I arrived, there was still that part of me screaming UNDERGROUND. Underground, underground, you're going underground, fool. Turn back. Turn away. Run. Run fast.

Run for safety.

Run because you don't want to see, don't want to watch.

Run because you don't want to join in your father's death.

But there was no avoiding it. We needed the aid of the dwarves. We needed their King to help us because we could not do this on our own, not even with the allies we had gathered.

Imagine my suprise, my sickness, when Behelen mad his final request.

Find Branka. Find her and gain her support. Bring her back. Branka of the smith caste. Branka the paragon. Branka who had dissapeared into the Deep Roads with her entire house, save her drunk warrior of a husband, Oghren.

Morrigan and I agreed. 'Twas a fool's errand.

The Deep Roads had changed none since the last time I was there. Dark. Cold. Stone and rocks and darkspawn-infested. A place where sleep was plagued by nightmares even if you couldn't sense the enemy, and a place where there was no peace. No hope. And if there was to begin with, it was soon abandoned. Stolen by the Stone itself.

It was an unforgiving place. Heartless as the creatures that dwelled inside.

I managed to keep my head until the Broodmother. When I saw it- her-

Words cannot describe.

The world went black. The next hour would be lost to me for the rest of my life, but the was already done. When I woke, I was laying on Stone, not the blood-and-flesh soaked ground that had been in the burrow of the Broodmother. Morrigan was sielnt as the others worried and fussed. The others told me that I defeated the Broodmother myself, with eyes red as my hair and a voice that was both mine and someone else's. I told them the truth, that I did not remember, and though they were confused, they left it be. We made a small camp, and it was on her watch that Morrigan woke me. Warned me.

I was no longer a simple Arcane Warrior but a Blood Mage. Somehow, in my sleep, a demon had taken its hold.

I told her she was wrong, but when she left me alone, I knew the truth.

And I was never alone again.

Sylphide was always there. Always listening through my ears, always watching through my eyes, always feeling what I felt through my skin.

She was desire. Not lust or sex as everyone confused, but desire. Raw. Wrong. What you want but have no right to claim. She was everything I wanted, but nothing I was allowed. She was my father alive and well, she was my mother still doting on me, the merchant and his wife still living in Redcliff, the Circle abolished and mages free. She was the love in Zevran that I never allowed myself to have.

But she was a demon. Sylphide. Demon. Desire. All these things.

Her voice was always in my ear, her hands in my hair, her tongue at my lips. She wanted nothing more than to move through me, speak through me, see through me- and she said so. She told me so. But she would keep to her bargain. She would never tell me what it was I bargained for, but she said she could keep her end.

As I said, the damage was done. And Sylphide had nowhere better to be. She was a permanant resident of my mind.

Days later, Bhelen would be King, crowned with Branka's own creation. The Anvil was preserved in order to bargain for the Paragon's support. Golemns and dwarves alike would fight at my side, when the time came. And the time had nearly come.

Slavers in the Alienage. Saving Anora, the current Queen, from a monster of a man called Howe. Imprisonment in Fort Drakon after a lost battle against Loghain's most loyal Ser Cauthrien. I survived all of this.

The Landsmeet was not easy. I did not win. I had not appeased the high-born of Ferelden nearly enough, it seemed. It came down to a fight, during which Loghain fell. I defeated him myself, but he was not dead. Riordan suggested making him a Warden, hinted that it would be better. Necessary. That we needed more Wardens for what was ahead of us. Alistair did not find these hints in Riordan's words. Or if he did, he refused to heed their warning. Loghain was a traitor, he demanded blood.

I made Loghain a Warden. I lost a friend. Ferelden gained a King, married to the Queen they already loved.

I missed my friend, but Ferelden would be better for it. Was better for it. Alistair was a good King and Anora a good Queen. They were a beloved pair.

Loghain ended the Blight, but I was still titled the Hero, somehow. Hero of Ferelden.

Hero. My friends had abandoned me to their own devises. I had no love. No family. No happiness. But I had a title. Hero.

Hero?

After all of this, I was sent to Amaranthine. Commander of the Grey, I was to be. I was tired of it all. Barely twenty-three and I was too old to still be alive. I should have been the one to defeat the Archdemon. I should have killed Loghain. I should have let myself love Zev. I should have begged Morrigan on my hands and knees to stay because I could not face the end alone. Alone. No friends. No father. No one. And she, of all people, was the one I thought closest. The one I thought a sister.

The one who called himself the Architect died by my hand, as did the Mother. Amaranthine City was saved, but Vigil's Keep fell. Nathaniel was the only survivor of the attack on the Keep, and it was he that I left in charge when I decided to leave.

The Deep Roads were as unwelcoming as ever when I entered them. I couldn't tell you why I returned. When I left the Wardens, I wanted peace. An end. And then I think I realized that, for me, there was no peaceful end, only fighting. Only darkspawn. So I returned to the Deep Roads to join my father, praying that he was smiling on me. That he was proud of me even though I was not.

I did not find death in the Deep Roads. I found the Legion of the Dead. I was familiar with the order from my time in Orzammar during the blight and from Sighrun, whom had been with me when I saved Amaranthine and defeated the Mother. I stayed with them for a time, and during that time met a dwarf that called himself Ginger. It was not his real name, but it was the name he gave me.

We became friends. And after a time, we were closer than friends were but neither of us comfortable enough to move forward. He convinced me to leave the Deep Roads. Return to Topside. You have a life ahead of yourself, he said. Don't fuck it up.

When I went Topside, he went with me. He never left my side. He was my friend. And then we were more than friends. And it was more than sex.

Never thought I'd marry, much less a dwarf. But I did. Learned his real name on our wedding day. Vilkas Aeducan. I put the brother that betrayed him on the throne. He found the whole thing laughable.

And we fought together. Loved together. Faced the future I was so unsure of together.

Whatever the case, that day we climbed out of the Deep Roads together was the last time I would see them. I swore it. And as he stared up at the sky as if he would get sucked up into it, I stared up, too.

Maybe I'd found the peace I was looing for, after all. Funny how things sneak up on you when you stop looking.

END


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